Tuesday, May 16, 2006

San Francischronicles, Chapter 3.

It is a little known fact that Rebecca instills sheer terror in seagulls. In addition, these sea-faring, fish, bread, penny, and occassionally,in a pinch, Alka-Seltzer eating flying bags of dirt are intensely poop shy, and cannot bear to let anyone see them relieve themselves, and will fly away with much immediacy upon being seen. Here we have an example of both.

Standing sideways in front of the war machine.

So, first time ever riding the train/trolley/whatever in San Francisco. Nice view, cool breeze. In fact, I was just about to take a picture of the Bay Bridge from the window of the moving train when I hear a loud crash. The driver yells, "Oh, shit!" and the train halts to an immediate stop. The doors fly open and the driver bolts out. As does everyone else on the train. Dude, this kid got HIT by the train. He was on a bike. You can't see him, but he's surrounded by all those people. He was alright. But, Rebecca and I both expected to see a dead body when we got off the train. Good times.

Then, ironically, I died on the bus. After becoming retarded. Rebecca seems oddly hopeful.

I like how the Golden Gate Bridge is in focus and we're not. I'm serious.